Of Snowmen and Snowballs
by MissMalfoy77
Summary: Written for the '5 Christmas Keys' Challenge, this is a one-shot of what happens when Angelina and Montague get thrown in detention on Christmas Eve. Sort of fluffy (:


**Hey! So this is an Angelina/Montague one-shot written for SeptemberSkies '5 Christmas Keys' Challenge and my 'keys' were picket fence, snowman, plastic crown, fallen tree and large footprints. This is set during their 7****th**** year. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The bell rang, signalling the end of the last class of the day. Angelina groaned as she packed her Charms books into her bag, realising she had detention in the evening, instead of trying out new plays with her team during practice tonight.

_Damn you George, you and your stupid Dungbombs._

After all, it was completely George's fault. If he hadn't bewitched a couple of dungbombs to chase Peeves around the third floor, Peeves wouldn't have crashed into the suit of armour. And then Angelina wouldn't have tripped over the armour on the floor, or needed to grab onto the nearest portrait to stop herself from falling and as a result, rip the portrait from the wall and effectively destroy it. And then Filch wouldn't have hobbled over, screamed at her and given her detention for breaking Educational Decree Number 527 or something. So yes, it was _completely_ George's fault. All in all, Angelina was in a vile mood as she chucked her bag onto her dormitory floor and threw herself onto her bed. Detention with Filch was going to be horrible.

* * *

At precisely 5pm, Angelina, dressed in a coat, scarf and boots to protect her from the chilly British winter, trudged to Filch's office. She opened the door and waited inside the empty room. Glancing around, she snickered when she saw a whole pile of Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes in the cupboard labelled 'Confiscated'. Served them right.

Was anyone else gonna be coming as well? The thought of serving detention by herself suddenly struck her and she hoped that _anyone_ would turn up. _Even _George, though he pissed the hell out of her. His annoying company wouldn't be minded when faced with the prospect of having to talk to herself for three hours.

Suddenly the door swung open. Angelina spun around quickly, desperate for a familiar face. She got one, though not one she was expecting. Her eyes narrowed as Montague, Slytherin 7th year and an even slimier git than George, walked through the door, smirking.

"What are you doing here?' Angelina asked, glaring. It was common knowledge around Hogwarts that Angelina and Montague loathed each other. Being Captains on the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams respectively meant that there was a lot of hate, prejudice and rivalry. Not to mention that Montague's team had a tendency to play oh so dirty.

"Believe me Johnson, the pleasure's not mine."

They stood there, glaring in silence until Filch opened the door with a nasty grin.

"Right…this ought to teach you what happens when you destroy school property and misbehave with your wand…" he muttered, leading them down the school corridor and out through the Entrance Hall. Angelina glanced into the Great Hall as they passed it. Ginormous trees had been erected all around the Hall and boughs of holly covered every entrance. Tinsel had been laced around the edge of the Hall. It truly looked like a winter wonderland and with Christmas tomorrow, she could not wait. Angelina cocked an eyebrow and looked at Montague questioningly.

"What did you do with your wand?"

"How did you destroy school property?"

"I asked you first."

"I asked you second," countered Montague as they stepped over a fallen tree. Angelina narrowed her eyes at him but walked on in silence.

"Right, you are going to clear the snow off this path, we have Ministry officials coming so it better be nice and visible. You will also make the piles of snow look presentable, unlike the mess you left in the broom closet…" (he glared at Montague), "…you are to report to me when you have finished and if it isn't satisfactory, you will be here for another time," Filch sneered as he walked off muttering, "Come, my sweets," to Mrs. Norris.

"Oh and no magic," he gave another nasty grin before walking off.

"So what, we're supposed to clear it with out own hands? What do they think we are, house elves? If my family came to know what this pathetic excuse for a school was making me do, I swear to Merlin they would - "

"Oh shut it Montague. No one gives a damn about your family. Just use your wand, he'll never know, and help me clear this so we won't be here another day," Angelina interrupted grumpily. She waved her wand, evidently trying to move large amounts of snow off the path, but all that happened was a small clump of snow feebly lifting up and dropping back down to its original place. Montague sniggered.

"Remind me again Johnson, but aren't you taking NEWT Charms this year?" he asked, moving a large clump of snow effortlessly to the side, forming a perfect pile. Angelina ignored him and started moving the snow with her hands.

* * *

Half an hour later, they had succeeded in clearing away a tiny fraction of the path, in complete silence.

"We're gonna be here all night," wailed Angelina, as she looked up at the darkening sky. She glanced down at her hands, numb with cold and shaking. Montague looked up from his work, sighed, and removed his gloves, offering them to Angelina silently.

"What?" she asked incredulously. There had to be a catch. With Slytherins, there was _always_ a catch.

"Just take them," he muttered, embarrassed. She accepted them and put them on, relishing the warmth they gave to her hands.

"Thanks." He grunted in response.

* * *

After another ten minutes of working in absolute silence, Angelina had had enough. This was worse than working by herself because at least then she could talk to herself and no one would give her strange looks. Inspired by his small and unexpected act of kindness, she attempted to start a conversation.

"Er, so do you normally stay at Hogwarts for Christmas?"

He grunted. Did that mean yes or no?

"Well I don't usually."

No response.

"But this year, my parents are travelling to Australia to meet my sister. She's married and she lives there, so I'm gonna have to stay here for the holidays."

No response again. Angelina was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Do you have any siblings?"

No answer.

"You know, I'm _trying_ to be civil here, putting aside out rivalry, and attempting to start a conversation and you're not helping," she huffed. He looked up at her.

"Last time I checked, we were in detention, not at a party. If I want to talk to you, I will. If I don't, then I won't. Simple." Angelina blinked in shock. Well that was unexpected. She resumed her work, but decided to sing to herself than work in silence.

_I won't ask for much this Christmas,_

_I won't even wish for snow…_

_I'm just gonna keep on waiting,_

_Underneath the mistletoe…_

"Okay okay fine, I'll talk to you. Happy? Just quit the singing!" Montague interrupted, a pained expression on his face.

"What's wrong with a little Mariah Carey to get you ready for Christmas?"

"Whatever. Just don't."

"So how are we supposed to make piles of snow 'presentable'?"

"I don't know, maybe make them into snowmen?" he replied sarcastically.

But Angelina's eyes widened.

"Yes! That's a great idea!" But catching sight of his face, she hurriedly corrected herself. "I mean, think about it! It'd be a nice 'Welcome to Hogwarts' thing for guests. S'long as it doesn't scare them, of course."

"You _seriously_ want to make snowmen?"

"Well I am. You can do whatever the hell you like."

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

They began to make snowmen out of the piles of snow they'd shoved off the path. A couple of snowmen later, Angelina had an idea.

"Wait here, I need to get some stuff." She raced back to the castle and into the kitchens. When she emerged back out into the snow, she was carrying a small hessian sack and two bottles. When she approached Montague, she offered him one of the bottles, filled with a honey coloured liquid.

"Butterbeer," she clarified, when he gave her a questioning look. "I tried to get something stronger, but the house elves refused to give me any Firewhiskey. Merlin knows I need something stronger to work civilly with you," she remarked.

He cracked open the bottle and downed half of it in one gulp. The warmth spread throughout him, comforting him against the bitter chill.

"Plus, I got some stuff that would make our snowmen…interesting."

She pulled out a carrot and Transfigured it so it was curved and stuck it in the middle of her snowman's head. Then she got two black pebbles for eyes and conjured a black wig for it. It looked suspiciously like –

"Snape? Really?"

"I think it looks a lot like him," Angelina countered, evidently proud of her work. She fished out a gaudy plastic crown out of the sack and propped it on Snowman Snape's head. It looked ridiculously stupid.

"Well…I have to give it to you…it sort of looks like him. It's an alright job, I mean for someone like you…" he remarked.

Her eyes narrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'someone like me'?"

"Well, you're a Gryffindor, so you can't really expect much and well frankly, you're a girl."

"Which means what?" she hissed.

"I think that's kind of self-explanatory."

_BAM!_

Montague recoiled in pain as Angelina's fist connected with his nose.

"Inferior? Is that what you were going to say? That being a girl meant we were weaker than you?" she snarled.

"Not exactly…" he muttered weakly, clutching his nose with blood spurting out between his fingers. It was obviously broken.

"I hope you know I am perfectly capable of kicking your arse to Shanghai and back on the Quidditch pitch!" she yelled, poised to take another strike at him.

"Yes, yes I believe you!" he exclaimed, taking several steps back. He hadn't meant what he'd said, but due to the lack of entertainment opportunities available during detention, seeing Angelina riled up was almost worth getting his nose broken. Almost. It hurt like hell.

"Episkey," he said, pointing his wand at his face and feeling his nose reform. Angelina, still obviously pissed at him, took her bag and walked away to a different section of the path and resumed working by herself. She reached down to scoop some snow when something caught her eye. It was a muddy blob amongst the white snow. Peering closer, she saw a depression in the snow and gasped. It was unmistakably a large footprint. What, in Merlin's name, could make a footprint _that big_? Still annoyed at Montague, but not wanting to pass up this opportunity, she called out to him.

"Oi you! C'mover here and see this!"

Montague stood up and squinted at her before lumbering over to where she was pointing.

"What do you make of that?" she asked.

"Dunno, looks like a footprint?"

"Yeah I thought so…but what could it be?"

Before she had finished her sentence, Montague turned and headed towards the Forbidden Forest, following something along the snow.

"Where are you going?" she called out.

"To see what that thing is," he yelled back.

"B-but it looks massive!"

He turned around and looked at her incredulously.

"Angelina Johnson, you are a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! Where's that stupid sense of bravery and your hero complex?"

Gritting her teeth, she stomped after him, determined to prove to him that she wasn't weak. When she caught up to him, she mumbled something.

"Sorry didn't catch that," he said, frowning.

"I said that that's the first time you've called me Angelina."

He paused momentarily, taken aback. Huh, he had. But it was just a name, it didn't mean anything, right? So why did he have a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach?

Catching up to her, he proceeded to the edge of the Forest and hesitated. Unknown footprints didn't usually scare him, but he knew the giant oaf, Hagrid, kept illegal beasts in there…was it really worth getting almost killed to find out what it was? Besides, the Slytherin versus Gryffindor match was this weekend. He wasn't going to miss the opportunity to demolish Angelina's team just for the sake of looking for a mysterious beast. Deciding all that, he turned to walk back, when –

_SPLAT!  
_

Cold, wet snow slid down his chest and Montague could just make out the smug expression on Angelina's face.

"Wha-?" His question was muffled by yet another snowball, this time right in the face. Questions, apparently, were supposed to be asked later.

fc"That was for calling me inferior!"

Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of snow and hurled it towards her, grinning when the satisfying _splat_ told him he'd hit his target. Angelina was hopping around madly, trying to shake something off. The snowball had gone down her coat, causing an unpleasant sensation.

"That was completely uncalled for!" she yelled, jumping on him and hitting him.

"What are you talking about? You threw two snowballs at me first!" he yelled back, trying to resist her flailing arms.

Suddenly he lost his balance and toppled forwards, pinning Angelina under him onto the snow. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, when moments later he realised just how awkward their position was. He looked at her to see if she was uncomfortable under his weight but was surprised to see instead she was staring back at him, a glint in her eye and half a smile…as if she was _daring_ him to…

No. Of course not. She couldn't be suggesting _that_. She hated him, for Merlin's sake! He was a good-for-nothing Slytherin, intent on demolishing her in Quidditch through dirty tactics and foul play. And he supposed he hated her too, after all, she was a Gryffindor…all their stupid bravery and brawn…but that's what really struck him odd. He didn't feel as if he hated _her_. It was just the fact she was a Gryffindor that he hated. Internally surprised at his own thoughts, Montague wondered. Could…could she possibly feel the same way? That deep down, maybe she didn't really hate him at all, like she thought she did? Deciding there would be no other opportunity like this to test out his hypothesis, he leant towards her and pressed his lips to her frozen ones for a couple of seconds, before pulling his head up and assessing her reaction. Her eyes widened in surprise. Was that a good thing or not? Before he could judge that, she yanked his head down and kissed him hungrily. Instinctively, he wove his hands through her hair, her back arching in response…

"You snogged me!" he exclaimed in a slightly accusatory tone after they had broken apart. His hair was ruffled and his cheeks were flushed red.

"I think you'll find that _you_ snogged me first, rather pathetically I must add, and then _I_ took matters into my own hands. It's one of the many reasons I'm a better Quidditch Captain than you," she joked, her face heating up despite the fact she was soaked in the snow.

"But I thought you hated me!" he asked, ignoring her jibe.

"Yeah, I was gonna ask you that. Why did you kiss me in the first place?"

"Well when I sort of looked at you properly, it kinda occurred to me that I probably didn't entirely hate you with every fibre of my being, so I thought that that was a good enough reason to kiss you," he explained nonchalantly.

"Wow, er, I'm flattered?" she replied uncertainly. He rolled off her and lay in the snow, gazing up into the darkened sky, musing how his dreaded detention had not been a total waste of time.

"Er, but to answer your question," her voice came from beside him, "you may be a slimy Slytherin git who I'll never regard as a worthy Quidditch opponent," (he scowled), "but I did see you help that Hufflepuff first year a couple of weeks ago and I realised that maybe I had you all wrong. Maybe you weren't as cold and cruel as your housemates, so I decided to give you a chance," she concluded. "Plus, it doesn't hurt that you are extremely good-looking. Slimy Slytherin git or not."

He smiled to himself, his hand creeping along the snow until he found hers and held it.

"I had not expected detention to turn out like this," she continued. "Quite different, you know, snogging a Slytherin instead of decorating the tree, wrapping presents, bewitching my dad's sled to look like Santa's and all with my family…"

"So traditional," he snickered. "Let me guess, your family celebrates like they do in the Muggle TV ads? In your quaint little cottage with the white picket fence?" he smirked. She laughed, surprised he even watched Muggle TV. They lay there in the snow for a while until Montague broke the silence.

"Merry Christmas…Angelina."

"Merry Christmas Montague."

As Angelina lay there, her hand intertwined with Montague's, and musing about how Filch would come out and scream at them for doing absolutely nothing, she thought that this could possibly be the best Christmas ever.

* * *

**If you thought it was good, please leave me a review and if you thought it was absolute shite, please leave a review and tell me why!**

**Hope you all had a Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year :D**


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